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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2.3 – Dred vs. Isabeth 2 (Evening 27, 2040 to 2130)
After dinner, Priest finished the briefed his company, did a re-cap for the day and announced that Lambda squad would return the next day. A whisper of relief went through the ranks for the vode that had been missed. He sent the kids to bed then returned to his quarter to do the bureaucracy for the aiwa-baits before he hit the shower.
He peeled the white rectangular patch from his left pectoral, rinsing off the stains of blood and glue meticulously. The superficial cut was still tender; therefore he applied a new patch for good measure. Isabet would have to wait a little longer to get a close-up on her handiwork. Tonight he would keep his armor on. Prior to that, he felt obliged to wear fatigues like the little aruetyc exhibitionist had requested. If it helped to lull in that girl’s coven – just the better.
When Priest entered the sergeant training room with a towel slung over his shoulder at 2040 sharp, Tomoe excused herself to Rav and Isabet immediately. Greeting him politely, she escorted him to the edge of the mats and knelt fluently. “Allow me,” she undid his boots before he could do something about it. While Dred was somewhat shocked at the level of subservience, Tomoe was all graceful ease about it.
“Please lay in the corner of the mat, face down.” He noticed that she had tightened a rope across that corner at her head height. Why did she pull off her socks? She noticed his anxious scrutiny “You don’t expect me to work through that bulk... with those hands only, do you?” – “Ah… no?” it dawned on him what she would do next…
Dred certainly wasn’t used to let anybody walk over him in public, but he managed to remain aloof about it. Tomoe kept it strictly business as well while proving that she could do things with her feet others couldn’t do with their hands… but then, she was used walking around in the most impossible footwear like those sandals she had slipped off her feet at the edge of the mat. Her plate-coverage left a lot to be desired, as well.
His mind drifted and he hoped that the massage would put back him together. Isabet was guarding the action from a sofa on the far side of the room. If he wasn’t fit to turn tables on her soon, it would probably inspire her for another go. He wasn’t too hot to find out if her cetare could do things to him Tomoe’s bare feet could not.
“Did you gather sufficient points for this itemization already?” She asked, prodding a particular hard knot with her toes in firm circles while she balanced herself with her hands on the strap above her head. “I pulled something up, gotta double check the numbers tomorrow.” – “In case you need some more aspects, I was impressed by their ability to improvise when they set up their instruction tools right there in the medbay.” – “Sounds like an idea,” Dred acknowledged, “any description will be taken by those bureaucrats as long as it is feasible. In the end, it’s just bullshit anyway. Any of my commandos can shoot straight without having to prove that on a daily basis. Of course, routine practice is necessary, but our employers just love to make them jump through that hoop because they have no idea what war really is about.”
“Me neither, …but for me, daily shooting-range-practice actually does some good. I finally understood why the kids look at me so strange… what would happen to them if they returned results like me… I’m glad I understand, but at the same time it’s scary. Hm… seems that your left shoulder is still somewhat tender.” She prodded again with a toe and he tensed, not because the muscle hurt but the cut in his pectoral was pressed into the mat when she put her weight there. “Please sit,” she stepped off his back.
Dred sat cross-legged, wiped his face in his towel and reveled in the feel of her dainty hands working over the base of his neck and shoulder once more. This time, he didn’t flinch at all. He felt her warm breath on his hackles and noted that her scent was wrapped delicately into a perfume of fresh grass. ‘Fett, you lucky bastard,’ he thought. The drab cotton of her fluffy garment rustled and then her exotic smooth chest plate with twin shoulder cords and ornamental eyelets bumped against his back lightly…
Leaning in to reach over Dred’s wide shoulder, Tomoe felt the edges of a patch underneath his flight suit. He had a dressed wound where she had not noticed before. “Oh, I’m sorry. You could have said something,” Tomoe scolded lightly and pulled away, her hands smoothing over his shoulders. “No need for bravery with me.”
“It’s alright,” Dred did not detail but stood to his feet with a relieved groan, “Thanks,” he recognized a job well done, “I have prepared a special treat for you in return.” She picked up her long-sword from the side, pushed it back under her the criss-crossing strings of her baggy pants and coiled up the rope. He went to the hot water dispenser embedded in the wall to stir the contents of a cup to a creamy paste with some cold drops of water to keep it free from lumps before he filled it up with hot fluid. “Not your usual shig. May I introduce you to spiced Trammistan chocolate?”
Tomoe took the steaming cup from him gingerly “Thanks.” She tried and complimented his choice of spices. The foamy brown liquid carried the rich aroma of chocolate accompanied by a hint of cinnamon and chili.
The scent wafted through the room and Isabet decided to amble up to them. “This smells really good. Is there more where that came from?” she asked.
Dred raised his heavy shoulders in test. “Yes, in my quarters,” he put out to her with a lopsided smile. If she went for that, he would save himself the trouble preparing the mess hall and enjoy her right after sharing a cup of hot chocolate. Her side arm wouldn’t make up for their weight difference in the cramped surroundings of his quarter. He would just grab it from her and have a go at the last point of his hidden agenda.
“Yeah, sure.” Isabet drawled. Apparently the same thought had crossed her mind: Payback was a bitch.
Priest just shrugged and chuckled good-naturedly then took the empty cup back from Tomoe to put it away “Well, thanks again, I’ll get some rest now.” he excused himself while Isabet coaxed Tomoe’s story out of the girl once more. Good, that would keep them up for long enough.
And indeed, Dred was headed for his quarters with an all new spring in his step. He flipped his towel over a hook in his bathroom and armored up in a hurry. He checked the crono – more than enough time had passed for even the slowest kitchen droid to return to the charging booth and shut down. He felt elated as he hooked his PEP-laser to his webbing, picked up a transport box that had been waiting for him just inside the door and went to prepare tonight’s playground.

Music recommendation: Don Giovanni– Comendatore scene (Salzburg 2014)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLsN06FrEgw

‘Gotcha!’
Isabet was about to pass the double doors of the mess hall, when Dred popped from the doorframe of a cleaning room into the T-shape crossing, his PEP-laser trained on her chest. “Keep your hands where they are and step backwards.” He commanded. She cocked her head, she looked satisfyingly like a nerf caught in the flashlight.
She was a quick draw, but no quicker than a weapon already trained on her. The PEP-laser was a non-lethal weapon, telling her better than words that he didn’t plan to kill her just yet, just brutalize her. ‘How very expectable,’ she thought. The door of the closed mess hall slid open. Apparently he had tampered with the lock. She obeyed and next thing she found out was that her com was impaired. Between the two blinks on the HUD that readied her dart thrower, she spotted a short-range scrambling device attached to the inner doorframe as he maneuvered her into the gloom of the mess hall.
The double door slid shut in his back and shut out the light coming from the corridor, leaving the mess hall in a yellowish gloom that came from somewhere behind her. “Take off your helmet,” He commanded. Isabet was a spitfire who didn’t press buttons like him but had most of her ‘gam’s weapon systems ready in a mere blink of an eye on the HUD, not to mention the com. “Put it down on the first table… and now put the blaster next to it - slowly.”
The PEP-laser packed a punch. Isabet was acutely aware that if she didn’t follow his directions immediately and to the letter, he would not hesitate to gun her down and just take his claim. “Your gauntlets and utility belt go on the next table.”
So much to her poison darts… He was a step ahead of her and she knew it. “Do you want me to strip one piece at a time?” Isabet tried to give his mind something to contemplate while she mapped the exits of the mess hall in her mind and tried to remember if the kitchen had a backdoor. He would be surprised how much quicker she could be without armor. But as long as he had a ranged weapon trained on her, she would go nowhere.
“That’s the idea.” Dred replied flatly. With her main weaponry gone or disabled, he cared to detail “You can take your sweet time stripping, but if you haven’t reached the counter butt-naked and thread-bare in… let’s say three minutes, you’ll get a charge.” It went without telling that would hurt a lot more in any state of undress.
Taking a step back from her gauntlets and down the dark runway between the stark white rectangular of the crew tables, Isabet scowled and started to unlatch the empty holster, and then she undid the clasps that held her flak west to her torso snugly and pulled it over her head matter-of-factly. She wouldn’t make her undressing his strip show.
When she laid down her vest, he dropped his own utility belt and the heavy shoulder ammo belt next to her helmet by the door. She briefly thought ‘Why?’ This hurry could become his downfall, one lapse would be sufficient. She noted subtle changes in his appearance. He had transferred his long combat knife from the belt to a shin pocket of his flight suit, telling her than he planned to use it after he disarmored. Her hackles rose, then her bare back touched the cold streamlined edge of the counter. He managed to keep the laser well trained as his gauntlets joined the utility belt - no pressing his buttons this time.
Next thing he was going to set aside would be his helmet, which would impair his field of vision briefly - her last chance to roll over the counter and make a runner for the backdoor underneath its cover.
“I locked it.” – “What?” – “The backdoor.” He slid the helmet from his head and rested in on the table, giving the naked woman a lopsided grin. Isabet averted her eyes briefly. Was she so predictable?!
“Time’s up.” He approached with long strides. Halfway down the alley, he just dropped the PEP-Laser on a table?! She jumped, he pounced, catching her by the ankle before she could make it into the yawing mouth of the kitchen and find a knife or at least a heavy frying pan, anything to avoid grappling this burly guy.
“Now, now,” Dred tooted after a daft pull on her leg that reversed her slide over the cold, polished surface. He slanted over her, pinning her hips to the counter with his solid bulk. “You don’t want to leave just yet, trust me,” he breathed in her ear. “Smell that?” His husky tone made her acutely aware that it was the ridge of his codpiece that ground into the soft spot underneath her buttocks.
He grabbed her braided ponytail by the nape of her neck to secure her further, lifting her cheek up from the counter. “I’ve prepared something for you…” He pulled up his knee, nudging the legs of his prisoner apart for good measure while he retrieved his tactical knife from the shin pocket. “…hot Trammistan chocolate.” He loosened the grip on her braid just enough to let it slide through his hand. He looped the tip, slicing through the braid just over the ribbon. Her hair fell around her face, but not before Isabet had seen the little pot steaming over a portable heat source. Due to the situation, that didn’t look as good as it smelled to her. His knee between her thighs kept her on her toes as he returned the knife to his shin pocket, well out of reach of her nimble fingers.
He dipped his custom made brush into the thick, hot fluid and drizzled some over her back. She strained against him most satisfactory. “Really. Hot. Chocolate… Don’t want you to get cold, all naked over this counter,” he mocked. His other hand fisted in her hair to keep her still while he drew a more intricate design on her back. He wasn’t an artist, but he could still paint for fun, could he?
He waited briefly to let the swirls he had drawn over her back cool, rocking against her butt ever so gently to remind her that she would go nowhere while he undid his gloves. He had adjusted the temperature most carefully beforehand in order to max it out, just underneath the point of scalding. Now he ran a testing fingernail up her spine, chipping drops of the tick brown liquid off her skin. He examined the red circles on her skin as he picked the chocolate chips up one by one with the tip of his tongue, sliding Isabet higher up the counter as his mouth moved down her spine, inhaling the heady scent of her arousal.
When he flipped her over casually to continue the paint job on her tender front side, she tried to kick him nevertheless. His cod piece and chest plate took the impact of her bare feet as he shouldered through her defense lines as quickly as she tried to pull them up. Isabet was lean and well toned, padded in just the spots that added female allure to the defined muscle of a warrior to reckon with. But in the naked, she was no match for him and he made sure she would remember that for a while. He seized her by the hips and pulled them down to his groin deftly, pinning her on her back with a heel jammed between his bull’s neck and shoulder.
His full crushing weight came down on her as he reached over the counter for the open end of a thin but sturdy leather strap he had secured there in advance. Catching the wild cats’ wrists one by one, he tied them over her head with just enough distance to flip her on her back again if that pleased him later. The chest plate scraping over the back of her lower leg made sure her freshly carved sigil on his pectoral wasn’t hurting too much.
Still she was fighting like an athlete and tried to regain footing with her free foot on the edge of the counter to push him off or at least relief the strain on the leg stuck underneath his armored bulk. He made her aware that her actions left her pussy shamelessly open to his hungry gaze and to his touch by plunging a finger into the vulnerable opening, probing her wetness. She felt really pleasant on the inside, pulsing and squeezing around his digit. “Feels like you don’t mind what I do to you.” he concluded and eased up again with a dark chuckle.
“Unhand me, you overgrown goon!” She arched her spine to dislodge him and he let his finger slide out ever so gently, rubbing her own juices over her clit while he made himself comfortable between her thighs. He unlatched his codpiece unhurried, admiring the view on her flexing torso and plump breasts rising up to him as she squirmed against his single digit that offered her pleasure. She moaned in frustration at his withdrawal for the first time when he reached for the brush in the chocolate pot to decorate her front side as well. That sexy little oh-sound thrilled him. He would make her moan more and loader, soon.
“Patience.” Starting just above the patch of brown hair at the apex of her legs, Dred drew an eight around her navel before he went further up over her abs with a triangle that ended between her breasts. Her nipples were already taught from contact with the cold counter and profound arousal, but he pinched them anyway for good measure before he introduced the areola to the heat of the brush. She winced as he conquered the most sensitive spot on her front side so far. With wide, smooth strokes he drew the reek’s horns around her soft breasts, half coating them in spiced chocolate.
He dropped the brush back into the pot, “Now you are feast.” He grabbed the chinch of her waist to hold her securely while he lapped and nibbled the chocolate off her skin, back-tracking the path of the brush so she could easily predict when his attention would return to her womanhood. Was it a gleam of anguish or expectation in her half lidded gaze? Spreading her folds wide and vulnerable he dibbed his tongue into her slit to taste her, and then bit onto her clit lightly. “Tell me you want more,” he murmured.
She shivered and pushed out against him “Yes, please.” Issy could even make a plead sound like a demand. Tonight, he would show her what it meant to be on the receiving end.
First he gave her two fingers, coating his chocolate smudged digits in her juices. He grinned wickedly and inched back, licking his fingers clean. “I like sweet…” he told her. She was so beautifully aroused that he was certain he could ram his manhood into her all he wanted and she would still have a joyride. What would have pleased him another night, wasn’t good enough for him now. He wanted her to make her feel too small to take him on, to make her submit to his rampant needs and yes, he wanted to hear her scream in pain like he had.
He reached over once more to coat his fingers in another bowl, returning to her clit swiftly. “…but I also like spicy,” he added matter-of-factly as he brushed over her pearl of pleasure then cycled around it, efficiently coating her pussy with his favored hot sauce that had been sitting in the shade of the steaming chocolate.
She yelped in pain and surprise as the burning sensation struck her most tender tissue. “Hurting? Let me kiss it better,” Keeping her pelvis secured by an arm around her thigh, his burning fingers gave way to his chin as he suckled and strummed her clit. She writhed against his face, but his marauding tongue held no relief. To make things worse, he sunk his fingers into her to the palm, spreading the burning sensation deeply inside her core as she bucked against him in pain. Now he had made her scream! He twisted, spread and crooked his fingers vengefully, playing with that shrill sound. She still failed to close her legs since his elbow around her thigh was about the diameter of her calf and that bulk was backed by an even stronger shoulder. Not a shoulder to lean on though, but one that held her most sensitive body area wide open to endure his torture!
Getting a pleasantly burning sensation on his lips as well, he wasn’t surprised that a firsthand experience of that fluid applied at large on her privates would do the job. ‘Good stuff,’ he licked his lips. While it went with almost any meal in his opinion, it complimented Isabet’s aroma like nothing else so far. But like a gourmet, he would experiment some more before he finished her.
“…too hot for you?” Dred sounded almost considerate as he withdrew and returned with a single ice cube, “This might help to cool you down,” he brushed it along her slit like a precious jewel. The ice must have had a slightly numbing effect on her since she raised her hips off the counter to follow the soothing sensation. He laughed and drove it up her anus viciously, then probed her vagina again. Her muscle ring drawn-in from the cold, she clenched around his burning fingers tightly!
Leaving Isabet tied on the counter, well lubed from previous arousal, now moaning and writhing helplessly in pain, Dred unzipped the lower section of his flight suit and sheathed his erection in a condom to be safe from burns himself. Then he lubed himself generously with a milky fluid. Applying a drop of it on her clit, he let her experience a just hint of the relief he had in store for her searing pain.
“Tell me you want this,” he commanded. His member jutted out proudly as he stood between her knees. If she could pull a number on him in unarmed combat, he would prove that he could subdue her without using any of his weight. “Please, Dred…” - “Please, what? Beg for it.” - “please… give it to me, give me relief.” He pulled her taught over the counter and slapped her legs apart further, baring her now crimson entrance to him. “lovely, and now keep them apart for me,” he growled low and menacing.
She regained her footing, straining to meet him as he lined up his member, nudging her entrance ever so slightly. “Buttocks off the counter,” she instantly raised her hips further to do his bidding. “Good girl,” he took hold of her butt. “Now what?” he inquired, a study of patience.
“Please fuck me already!” she yelled at him. He grinned. Dirty talk was so not-Issy otherwise.
“My pleasure,” Dred tore through her clenched muscle ring with a long harsh trust, followed by short, stabbing ones as he settled his manhood into her tightness. Shaken by his harsh treatment, the gradual relief from chemical burn mellowed her resolve to hold herself up to him. He pulled her ass cheeks apart, milking himself with her powerful muscles as he withdrew just to pound into her more deeply. Torn between the sensations, he felt her first spasm and growled out his triumph. He had her where he wanted and drove her over the edge mercilessly.
As her orgasm melted her down into a puddle underneath him, he flipped her heels over his shoulders, almost folding her half. He started to grind himself into an even softer spot deep inside of her, rubbing his full length along the unnatural ridge of the intruding ice cube to arouse himself further while she was driven from one climax into the next. Writhing in his bonds as well as in the throes of pain and orgasms he had inflicted, with her unbound hair wild around her flushed face she was a gorgeous sight to remember.
He had to slow himself to make his satisfaction last longer, consume her fully. Fighting with himself to break away, he flung himself off her harshly and turned her over onto her stomach. The cold of the counter brought her back to her senses as he seized her hips, hauled her ass up and sheathed himself in her again. Exhausted and no fight left in her, her groan was pain as well as ecstasy. Pulling her back to stand on her toes, he impaled her upon him, twisting her nipples with both of his hands. He feed on the designs he had painted on her back, tore straps of sweet chocolate intermixed with salt off her skin like a hungry predator devouring his prey, then bit down hard on the nape of her neck to churn her on.
About to loose himself in the comforting velvety depth she had utterly given up to his use, he rammed her further up the counter with firm even strokes. Crouched over her, he ran his palms down her thighs in gentle caress, then grabbed her shanks and forced her heels up beside the cheeks of her ass. Driving his manhood over the padded, slick ridge of her pubic bone, he rutted like a fury animal, driving small mewls out of her as he pumped his seed in her, milking himself dry within her.
And then with an almost a cruel growl, he thrust her away from him.
Feeling that he had made the point that he could use her as he pleased and she would still enjoy it, he smiled down at her smugly as she collapsed on her side, her body sore and her mind dizzy. Get-away was a crucial point in hit-and-run tactics, especially when applied on pissed-off Mandalorian women! A dark gaze locked on him from half-lidded eyes. ‘Woohoo…’ Issy would be such a life-wire soon. He zipped up his flight suit and used his head start to armor-up and replace the helmet.
Dred collected his machinations from the main entrance, switched off the heat source on the counter and returned it to his transport box. If she wanted a taste of chocolate for herself, she could either try one of the smears her back had left on the counter while he wrestled her down... or come after him. He snapped the box close and went to leave.
“Didn’t you forget something?” Isabet reprimanded him. She had come around and sat tied on the counter, quite statuesque like she had been placed there as a home-decoration named “princess in distress”.
“Kicking out at me comes at the same price as kicking at you. I’m sure you’ll manage to chew through it before fall-in… there are no dinosaurs around here like on Trammistan III that could devour you in the mean time.”
The kitchen backdoor swished open and he looked back to laugh at her before he snatched up the fixings of a trap wire attached on the door frame at shin height.
He was such a bad boy…
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Offshore Job

Chapter 2.3 – Dred vs. Isabeth 2 (Evening 27, 2040 to 2130)